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picture_prompt_fun2017-08-20 10:19 am
marycatelli) wrote in picture_prompt_fun2017-08-20 10:19 am
Entry tags:
Escape To the Citadel (spec-pic#4; pic#12, #8, #3, & #4; spe-pic #7 & #8) -- original
Title: Escape To the Citadel
Fandom: original
Character: original
Length: 764
Rating: G
In a new, long gown of crimson velvet, her black hair swept up, Isabelle swept down the hillside, ignoring the leafless trees, and the litter of pale, dead leaves over the forest floor. Charlotte-Rose tried to keep looking away, but she did not think that Isabelle would notice her, if she were seven feet tall and dressed in cloth of gold.
Bernard came out of the woods, in his blue uniform.
"It's all right," said Isabelle, breathlessly. "The king has heard. We can -- " Her hands moved hopelessly as the words refused to burst out of her. Bernard went down on one knee and kissed her hand.
Fortunate Bernard and Isabelle, thought Charlotte-Rose, as she picked her way onward, ignored, to have the king's favor to override their fathers' wishes. And fortunate Charlotte-Rose, to have their raptures to give her room to escape. . . .
Michel, pale of face, looked up the slope, and his face light up with his smile. But a tunnel loomed behind him, and Charlotte-Rose felt the color leave her face. They had to go through that?
"It's not far," he whispered, coming up to her, holding out his hand. "See?"
She could indeed see the packed earth and the trees through the tunnel, but also she could see the path was only a ledge beside a river, and the dead wood caught it in, but sticking up like fangs.
Worse lay behind her, and she crept along the ledge, half wishing that she could take Michel's arm, half horrified by the thought on this narrow ledge. Outside, the earth was packed and lifeless, and the trees twisted. She let out a long breath. They still had to get to the citadel, and if the king could not reach them, still the Order had not accepted them.
Michel offered her his arm. They walked up the slope, and green valleys opened ahead of them. The foreground was sunlit, and behind stood a mass of storm clouds, and between a rainbow arched downward. Her breath came out with a sigh. She glanced sideways at Michel, who had a fond half-smile on his mouth. Superstitious to think it meant good luck, she told herself, even though they had met at that fete of rainbows, with its brilliant enamelwork horses on that clockwork that bore them round and round, and the brightly painted boats beneath sunrise so perfectly bright that everyone knew the wizard had worked weather magic.
They still had to reach the citadel. They turned left, and found it. Drab gray, stolidly built. It would be harder to storm than the prison, and she did not think they would allow dancing bears in. A guard in armor, without a badge, nodded to them and escorted them down a hall of still more gray stone. Stone as gray as her dress, or Michel's tunic and breeches, she told herself. Then -- she blinked -- there was a curtain of red velvet ahead. The guard pulled it aside to reveal a niche with two benches, also stone, and a window that shone down on them, its glass all set with circles.
"Wait here," said the guard, and walked on.
Charlotte-Rose sat. Michel sat opposite her, and leaned back against the wall. After a minute, he said, "I wonder how they defend that."
"It might be inside," said Charlotte-Rose, hesitantly.
"A citadel like this, they would build to defend even after the enemy have broken into the courtyard."
"My lord, my lady." A gray-clad servant stood by the niche. "This way."
They stood. Minutes later, the servant ushered them into a suite -- more luxurious than Charlotte-Rose had ever seen for anyone of her station, or Michel's. There were windows of clear glass, finer than anything she had seen at the royal castle, and they looked down on a gray sea.
"A servant will bring you to dinner. In a few hours. You may freely venture outside until then."
He left. They looked about the suite first -- it even had a library -- but then they tried the door.
A blast of raw, cold air drove them back. But then Michel went to get the coats hanging in the wardrobe.
The garden was more greenery and statuary than flowers, but they walked down to the sea, where iron railings stood over the waves pounding the shore.
"This is the North Sea," said Michel. "It has to be."
"I wonder," said Charlotte-Rose, "how people with magic like this suffered the imprisonment of their lord."
"The king," said Michel slowly, "also has magic."
Fandom: original
Character: original
Length: 764
Rating: G
In a new, long gown of crimson velvet, her black hair swept up, Isabelle swept down the hillside, ignoring the leafless trees, and the litter of pale, dead leaves over the forest floor. Charlotte-Rose tried to keep looking away, but she did not think that Isabelle would notice her, if she were seven feet tall and dressed in cloth of gold.
Bernard came out of the woods, in his blue uniform.
"It's all right," said Isabelle, breathlessly. "The king has heard. We can -- " Her hands moved hopelessly as the words refused to burst out of her. Bernard went down on one knee and kissed her hand.
Fortunate Bernard and Isabelle, thought Charlotte-Rose, as she picked her way onward, ignored, to have the king's favor to override their fathers' wishes. And fortunate Charlotte-Rose, to have their raptures to give her room to escape. . . .
Michel, pale of face, looked up the slope, and his face light up with his smile. But a tunnel loomed behind him, and Charlotte-Rose felt the color leave her face. They had to go through that?
"It's not far," he whispered, coming up to her, holding out his hand. "See?"
She could indeed see the packed earth and the trees through the tunnel, but also she could see the path was only a ledge beside a river, and the dead wood caught it in, but sticking up like fangs.
Worse lay behind her, and she crept along the ledge, half wishing that she could take Michel's arm, half horrified by the thought on this narrow ledge. Outside, the earth was packed and lifeless, and the trees twisted. She let out a long breath. They still had to get to the citadel, and if the king could not reach them, still the Order had not accepted them.
Michel offered her his arm. They walked up the slope, and green valleys opened ahead of them. The foreground was sunlit, and behind stood a mass of storm clouds, and between a rainbow arched downward. Her breath came out with a sigh. She glanced sideways at Michel, who had a fond half-smile on his mouth. Superstitious to think it meant good luck, she told herself, even though they had met at that fete of rainbows, with its brilliant enamelwork horses on that clockwork that bore them round and round, and the brightly painted boats beneath sunrise so perfectly bright that everyone knew the wizard had worked weather magic.
They still had to reach the citadel. They turned left, and found it. Drab gray, stolidly built. It would be harder to storm than the prison, and she did not think they would allow dancing bears in. A guard in armor, without a badge, nodded to them and escorted them down a hall of still more gray stone. Stone as gray as her dress, or Michel's tunic and breeches, she told herself. Then -- she blinked -- there was a curtain of red velvet ahead. The guard pulled it aside to reveal a niche with two benches, also stone, and a window that shone down on them, its glass all set with circles.
"Wait here," said the guard, and walked on.
Charlotte-Rose sat. Michel sat opposite her, and leaned back against the wall. After a minute, he said, "I wonder how they defend that."
"It might be inside," said Charlotte-Rose, hesitantly.
"A citadel like this, they would build to defend even after the enemy have broken into the courtyard."
"My lord, my lady." A gray-clad servant stood by the niche. "This way."
They stood. Minutes later, the servant ushered them into a suite -- more luxurious than Charlotte-Rose had ever seen for anyone of her station, or Michel's. There were windows of clear glass, finer than anything she had seen at the royal castle, and they looked down on a gray sea.
"A servant will bring you to dinner. In a few hours. You may freely venture outside until then."
He left. They looked about the suite first -- it even had a library -- but then they tried the door.
A blast of raw, cold air drove them back. But then Michel went to get the coats hanging in the wardrobe.
The garden was more greenery and statuary than flowers, but they walked down to the sea, where iron railings stood over the waves pounding the shore.
"This is the North Sea," said Michel. "It has to be."
"I wonder," said Charlotte-Rose, "how people with magic like this suffered the imprisonment of their lord."
"The king," said Michel slowly, "also has magic."